


A Hole in the Mind

by Estirose



Category: Kamen Rider W (Double)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estirose/pseuds/Estirose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shoutarou has a concussion-induced dream. Set in a universe where the events of 49 didn't happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hole in the Mind

Shoutarou had done his best to live after Philip's disolution into data. Of course, that meant finding something of Philip's in little odd places, like a favorite book tucked out of the way in the most inexplicable place (Shoutarou had long gotten used to Philip tucking stuff in the filing cabinets, as if he'd expected Shoutarou to find them there one day), or a recording of his partner's voice, or one of Akiko's many photos of the Detective Agency, Philip included.  
  
But some part of him was less cautious now that Philip was gone, and he was alone. Not that he meant to die, but the brain plays funny tricks on people, sometimes, and maybe he didn't watch out for casual dangers as he once would have.  
  
Which was why, on his way to a battle, his bike collided with something he couldn't see and he crashed into the ground. He wore a helmet, of course, but it didn't matter. He fell into the ground that opened beneath him, into a hole that would have done Alice in Wonderland proud had she really existed. He fell down, and down some more, and wondered if he was just dreaming that part up after conking his head on something.  
  
 _Welcome, self, not-self._  
  
It was hard to gawk when falling, with the wind gusting around him, almost slowing his fall.  
  
He landed in a library. Bookshelves hovered around him, occasionally shifting around as if to let their books get a better look at him.  
  
 _Self-and-not-self, rest._  
  
He stretched out an arm, and noticed the green data rolling down his skin like it belonged there.  
  
 _Rest and become all self._  
  
"No!" he screamed. Tried to pull himself up, though it was hard. His arms felt wobbly, as if they were made of noodles instead of muscles and bones.  
  
It felt like it was trying to smother him in welcome, try to drag him to his rest. Was this what it would feel like to die someday?  
  
His arms were disappearing into strands of data, and he had to wonder if this was what Philip felt like. Maybe it was part of his worst nightmares to die like this, dissolving as if he'd never existed.  
  
 _Rest, and be remade._  
  
Shoutarou hit the floor with a thud, his arms unable to support him. "What?"  
  
 _Self needs a self in the world._  
  
His body started to disappear, one strip of data at a time, as he had to watch, moment after moment. The shelves and their books continued to peer down on him.  
  
 _Not-self will soon be gone,_ it said.  
  
"Yeah," he said, not sure how he was speaking as he was sure his lungs were no longer there. It didn't hurt, oddly enough, he just ached.  
  
He was dying, at least in this dream, and it made a terrifying amount of sense. He let himself drop into unconsciousness, knowing that it was likely to be a dream, and it would be gone when he woke up.  
  
Shoutarou woke up in a field, just as he'd seen as he was flying over his handlebars. There was no pain, much to his surprise, and he checked himself over for bruises.  
  
There were none. No bruises, no bleeding, no broken bones. His bike seemed to be okay, though he'd take it into the shop once he got back.  
  
Out of the corner of one eye, he thought he saw a bit of his arm flash a stream of green. He held it up, reminding himself that he'd had a very weird dream, and even if he imagined he'd seen data running down his arm, what of it? It was just his mind replaying Philip's last days.  
  
Apparently he was adding that kind of nightmare on top of the rest of the ones he'd had since Philip had died. The worry that he, too, might die ahead of his time.  
  
The worry that he'd lose himself to Joker like so many others had lost to their Gaia Memories.  
  
He had to go on, even if he'd never see Philip again. Because so many people were counting on him, the Kamen Rider, and he would be the one to count on. Even if losing Philip hurt so much, and that he'd never recover from the pain.  
  
Settling his helmet on a bit better and setting his feet on the pegs, he drove off. And unseen by him, a flash of data ran down his cheek, as if he was crying a single, digitized tear.


End file.
